


Swamp Gas

by TheInfamousDoctorF



Category: Call of Duty, nazi zombies
Genre: Alcohol, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Profanity, bad German accents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1988454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInfamousDoctorF/pseuds/TheInfamousDoctorF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another bad day in Shi No Numa. Richtofen decides to share some very old alcohol with his crush and ends up with a fresh scar and another hole in his memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swamp Gas

Swamp Gas 

Shi No Numa was just too fucking hot. Tank felt like he was melting. He’d been keeping the Russian at at least arms length all day. He had nothing against Nikolai, but the man seemed oblivious to the fact that he smelled like a dead cow in that heavy down coat of his. He was sure the Jap was just as uncomfortable, but since the quiet little man hardly ever said anything, there was no point in commiserating with him. It would just sound like whining.  
And then there was the Nazi, always so perfectly coiffed in his dress uniform. He snorted, that bastard would just sneer at Dempsey’s discomfort. Richtofen’s stone cold heart probably kept him nice and cool in this awful heat.  
Even the zombies seemed sluggish today. It was just too hot. The legless crawlers they had tied up lay limply on the ground. Only an occasional moan signaled that they were still among the vigorous undead. For whatever reason, maiming a zombie and keeping it alive would keep all the others at bay until the stumpies were killed or bled out.  
One of the zombies noticed the marine staring at it and hissed viciously, baring its broken teeth.  
“Yeah, fuck you too.” Tank muttered.  
“Dempshey, Shtop taunting my little friends,” Richtofen said archly.  
Tank rolled his eyes, and watched silently as the mad doctor tapped a syringe to remove the bubbles and injected a sickly green fluid into the arm of one of the crawlers. He then stepped back quickly and pulled a tiny book and a pencil from his coat.  
The zombie suddenly began to twitch violently and its face turned from red and gray to a mottled purple. Dempsey couldn’t help but notice that Edward was panting lightly; he enjoyed this kind of thing way too much.  
The crawler suddenly jerked and began a series of loud burps before falling stiffly to the floor. The unholy light in its eyes went dark, and the other crawler joined them in a silent stare at the crumpled corpse.  
Edward’s harsh giggle echoed in the sudden lull. Tank felt slightly ill. The Nazi scribbled madly in his little book before tucking it away in his jacket again, and composing himself.  
His gaze turned to the remaining crawler and he smiled wickedly, his sharp white teeth gleaming.  
Tank stood up and dusted off his clothes, “that’s enough ‘entertainment’ for me. I’m gonna take a walk.”  
For a moment he could have sworn that a slightly hurt expression flitted over the German’s features. But it was gone in an instant. 

* * * * * * * * 

There wasn’t much solid ground to walk on and by the time he’d reached the fisherman’s hut his boots and spats were soaked through. He laid his guns down with a clunk and sat down on the little porch to pull his shoes off. There wasn’t much point in trying to stay dry, but he didn’t want to get trench-foot from constantly wet shoes. That was all Tank needed, some medical problem that he’d have to bring to the Nazi doctor’s attention. He was the only one in the quartet with medical training, and as much as Dempsey hated it, they did need him.  
With a tired groan he sloughed off his bandolier and sweat-soaked jacket. The wind picked up a little and a cool breeze played amongst the downy chest hairs peeking over the collar of his sleeveless shirt.  
He closed his eyes and sat back; just enjoying a rare moment of peace. 

* * * * * * * * 

Richtofen looked out the back door of his quarters and watched the blond marine slog through the knee-high water. His lips curled in an irritated frown. It wasn’t near as much fun torturing the zombies without his favorite audience of one to be appalled and disgusted by it. He didn’t really know why that enhanced the experience, it just did.  
Edward shook his head, “who cares vhat that shtupid American thinks?”  
He groaned softly, “I do… Dammit.”  
The doctor paced the uneven wooden floor, his boots tapping softly. The whole situation was disgraceful. Having to trust his life to his former test subjects was galling. And the knowledge that they might all turn on him if they suddenly remembered what they had been through only made it worse.  
He looked down at the mutilated zombie on the floor. A well-timed grenade had blown its legs off and it was basically standing upright balanced on what remained of its pelvis. The clawed hands were tied together and bound securely to its waist. The glowing yellow eyes fixed on him and the untoten monster snarled softly.  
Most of the zombie’s uniform had rotted or been torn away, but the distinctive red band that marked it as a Nazi soldier yet remained. It was a glaring reminder of the rigid ideology that Richtofen had sworn allegiance too. And what a failure he was being now at upholding it.  
He could deny it all day long, but part of him lusted after the American marine. ‘As if falling for another man wasn’t bad enough, why did it have to be one from the enemy ranks?’  
Tank was a perfect ubermench. Blond hair, sky blue eyes, toned muscles, and all the best qualities the 115 could evoke in the human body; speed, healing, cat-like reflexes and enhanced instincts… Richtofen massaged his aching temples. The voices in his head murmuring ugly condemnations, and urged him to destroy the object of his affection. Or failing that; to kill himself and take his shame to the grave.  
The zombie was mumbling now, it was probably Sam trying to talk through his brother Nazi, just to torment him more directly then she usually did.  
He was sorely tempted to just shoot the creature and put it out of its misery. But he knew it would bring another wave of bloodthirsty zombies out of the fetid water of the swamp. And that would be doubly dangerous since his so-called allies had scattered to some other part of the encampment. He found himself wondering aloud where Tank had wandered off too.  
The zombie mumbled something that sounded like the word ‘faggot’. And Richtofen ground his teeth in frustration. 

* * * * * * * * 

Tank allowed himself to fall backwards and lay against the cool wooden floor of the porch. The quiet of the swamp had set his mind to wandering. Even at the best of times Shi No Numa was still a hellhole. No booze, no women, not even a deck of cards to gamble with.  
Women… that one was the hardest to do without. A little heat pooled in his groin at the thought, and his hand wandered down to cover his crotch. The pilled cotton of his boxers rubbed roughly on his swollen manhood. ‘How long had it been?’ He didn’t even know. 

* * * * * * * * 

Richtofen watched Dempsey from a knot of bushes. He unconsciously licked his lips at the sight of the hard-bodied soldier stripped of most of his clothing and absent-mindedly rubbing a tight bulge in his pants. Screwing up his courage he sauntered casually out of hiding.

* * * * * * * * 

A tortured groan and soft splashing made Tank sit up abruptly, reaching for his weapons on instinct.  
Richtofen stepped into view. The Nazi had tied a rope around the crawler’s chest and was dragging it awkwardly on this makeshift leash. In his other hand he was clutching a half-full bottle of something.  
“Hey Doc,” he said, waving the German to come closer. “What cha got there?”  
Edward looked down at the bottle like he’d forgotten he had it. “Oh zhis? It’s…” he struggled to pronounce the unfamiliar word, “te-que-laa.” He shrugged, “it’z alcohol. I vas going to offer it to zhe Russian in exchange for watching zhis wretched zombie. It’s constant noises are making mein head throb.”  
Tank brightened, “hey don’t do that. Nikolai has plenty of alcohol. I’ll watch the little bastard for you if you share.”  
Edward shrugged noncommittally, but inside he was trying to contain his elation. The bottle was a remnant of when he had plied his trade here before. He’d confiscated it from some lay-about who was drinking it on sentry duty and hidden it in his office. God only knew where the soldier had found it. But it was sterile and untainted, and maybe even strong enough to put the haughty marine into a more suggestive state.  
Richtofen lashed the zombies ‘leash’ to a post and tied it tightly. He sat down next to Tank in what he hoped was a nonthreatening manner and offered the bottle to the eager blonde.  
Tank sniffed the contents and gave the Doctor a suspicious look. Richtofen just focused on looking distracted and unconcerned. Tank took a small experimental taste and then a mouthful of the bitter alcohol. He passed the bottle to the doctor who took the smallest of swallows and handed it back.  
Dempsey eyeballed the pale man, “lightweight huh? I should have guessed.” Edward shrugged noncommittally. He knew he had a low tolerance and wanted to keep his wits about him. The American though, he had no similar compunctions. It didn’t take long before the bottle was down to its last drops and Dempsey was wearing a silly drunken grin that didn’t sit well on his chiseled face. The marine swung the bottle gently in one hand. “Aww,” he slurred, “all gone.” With a crazed giggle he swung the bottle against the porch step, shattering the body of it. He held up what remained, just a neck with a sharp edge. “Whoops” he mumbled. “Oh well.”  
“Vell that was shtupid,” Richtofen muttered. There was just the slightest hint of slur in his own voice, even sipping at the powerful liquor he knew he’d had just a little too much. It made his whole body feel so hot, he was sure his pale face was entirely red. He fumbled with the straps around his chest and unbuttoned his jacket. His white shirt underneath was stained with sweat and he loosened his black tie, panting in the heat.  
He suddenly noticed Dempsey staring at him. “Vhat?”  
“Geeze you’re thin. Wazza matter with you Krauts? don’t ya feed your own army worth a damn? That zombie weighs more then you do.”  
Edward tasted a hint of bile in the back of his throat. He’d been a small, sickly child and he didn’t need this perfect-looking specimen of manhood reminding him of those unhappy times and his own inadequacies.  
He went to stand quickly and storm away, but the alcohol caused him to stumble and he slipped on one of Tank’s wet spats, tumbling into the marine’s lap. Edward reared back with a howl of pain that scared the hell out of Dempsey. The German clutched at the right side of his face and blood oozed between his fingers.  
Tank blinked in confusion at the macabre sight and looked down to realize he was still holding the neck of the broken bottle. Richtofen had fallen onto it and the sharp edge had sliced a crescent-shaped wound under his right eye.  
Edward bit his lip in agony, the front of his very skull felt bruised from the impact. He dug around in his pouches and pulled out a small bottle of peroxide. Dabbing it on the wound foamed and burned abominably, but it also stemmed the flow of blood. He sat back on his haunches, waiting for the pain to subside into a dull roar.  
Dempsey looked in horror at the bit of broken bottle and threw it as far away as he could manage. He scooted over closer to the Nazi, who was still covering the wound with his hand, pressing it down. “Hey Doc, are you okay?”  
Richtofen glared at him with his one visible eye. “I hate you Dempshey.”  
“Hey, don’t say that! You’ll hurt my feelings!” He sniggered drunkenly.  
The alcohol was still flowing freely in Tank’s veins and it made him feel more charitable towards his hated enemy. He gently peeled Richtofen’s hand away from his eye. The blood had run in swift rivers from the deep slash and the Nazi looked like he’d been crying gory tears.  
Edward just stared at Dempsey; his expression flat and aggravated. For some reason this caused Tank to grin widely. He put his meaty palm on the other side of Edward’s face, and ran his fingers along the German’s sharp cheekbones, tracing down the still red scar that crossed his left eye. Strange tingling warmth seemed to follow his fingers as he explored the doctor’s face.  
His eyes were half-closed and he spoke so softly that the doctor had to strain to hear him. But even when he did, he couldn’t believe what Tank had said.  
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda cute when you’re mad?”  
Richtofen’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest.  
He was close, too close. Edward Richtofen trembled slightly. He knew how dangerous Tank could be when the situation demanded it. The Nazi doctors had always been careful to keep this test subject constantly drugged. And he was well aware that the marine could more then best him in physical strength.  
Tank’s hot breath on his neck made the hairs stand to attention, and he could feel the crimson blush creeping to the upper part of his face. His breathy whisper made Edward’s toes curl in his boots.  
“I’m sorry to add to your collection of scars Doc. I wonder if there’s anything I can do to make you… feel better?”  
The doctor shivered involuntarily, the adrenaline and alcohol still coursing through his veins. He could feel his trousers tightening.  
Dempsey mistook his shiver for actual chills and came even closer to snuggle his enemy in his sinewy arms. He leaned back against the wall of the fishing hut and arranged Richtofen on his lap.  
The voices in Edward’s head were shrieking in displeasure now, but he couldn’t hear them over the dull thump of Tank’s heart beating beside his ear. And frankly he didn’t care. If Dempsey could drown out the mocking voices; that made the discomfort of being cradled by his hated rival worth the irritation.  
A zipping sound started him to full attention. Dempsey was opening the front of Edward’s pants. And before the Nazi could protest, Tank had a firm grasp on his member and was stroking it vigorously.  
Richtofen gasped, panting lightly from excitement. He’d never, well there was never time… he’d always been lorded over by exacting taskmasters. Who had time to spare for love?  
Tank saw the effect his ministrations were having on the slender man and decided to step it up. He spit on his fingers and increased the speed of his stimulation.  
A tiny dribble of drool escaped Edward’s lips, mixing with the drying blood that had run down his cheek. His fingers curled reflexively, crinkling Dempsey’s thin shirt in his hands as he flailed for something, anything to grip in his passion. He was getting close now, his body warm and tingling, Richtofen felt like he was falling.  
Then suddenly bliss, like stars exploding in front of his eyes. All the tension left him in an instant and he slumped boneless in the larger man’s lap. He opened his eyes, baffled and completely unsure of what to say to the man who had just made him cum so intensely.  
But it turned out he didn’t have to say anything at all. Tank had passed out.  
Edward sat there for a moment before zipping his pants and clambering gently off of the sleeping marine. The alcohol was taking its toll on him too, and the afterglow was making his eyelids even heavier. With a sigh he let himself down flat on the floor and stared up at the sky. In a few minutes, he too was quietly snoring. 

* * * * * * * * 

Several hours later Takeo came upon the sleeping pair. He cocked a thin eyebrow at Tank’s clothing scattered all over the porch; but then, it had been really hot.  
Nikolai sauntered up, cheerful and loud. “HEY GUYS, WAKE UP!” he yelled.  
Two pairs of bloodshot eyes glared at him from the shadows of the portico.  
With a groan Tank set about putting his boots and jacket back in order and checked his weapons. “Is it time?”  
“Yes.” Takeo said in clipped tones. “This crowler has just about expired.”  
And it was true; the stumpy was swaying in a dizzy way. As they watched, the light in its eyes, which had seen so much, went out. It toppled to the ground, well and truly dead.  
Richtofen clutched his gun, “I hear zhem” he said softly. Getting quickly to his feet, he scanned the surrounding swamp.  
“Hear them? I smell them!” burped Nikolai.  
Tank fixed the doctor with a suspicious scowl. “I don’t know why it feels like a donkey kicked me in the head, but I bet it’s your fault.”  
Edward scowled back, he touched his tender cheek. “Vell I don’t know vhat happened to mein faze, but I bet it’s your fault Dempshey!”  
“Damn kraut!”  
“Shtupid American!”  
And with a roar of undead all around them, the game was on again.


End file.
